


Something On Your Back

by probablynotadalek



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Not Really Character Death, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, What Happened in Budapest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3343133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/probablynotadalek/pseuds/probablynotadalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“A single moment in time, and everything changed.” The woman looks into her eyes. “What made that moment special?”</em><br/><em>Suddenly she flashes back to that dark room, the gun in her hand.</em><br/>“I could help you. Just trust me.”<br/><em>“I could have killed him.”</em></p><p>What if Natasha had killed Clint when they first met? How would the Avengers have changed? Would New York survive Loki's invasion?</p><p>Inspired by the Doctor Who episode “Turn Left.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something On Your Back

**Chicago, Illinois, 2014**

“Hello, Natasha.” She hears from behind her and turns, and she should not have turned. Her name is not Natasha, it’s Georgia. Sitwell was right, she’s spent far too much time with the Avengers. That didn’t matter, she is Georgia Waters, and she is going to go interview for a job at a diner and get this mission over with quickly so she can curl back up on Tony’s couch and watch horrible Netflix movies with Clint.

No, Georgia wants to get this done quickly so she can go home and order a pizza and watch the newest episode of Pretty Little Liars. 

“Come here, Natasha.” She sees the owner of the voice waving her over from the edge of an alleyway. An old woman. Possibly harmless. Georgia continues walking, trying to pay no attention- 

“Don’t ignore me, Widow. That would end poorly.” Not harmless. She could risk blowing her own cover or this woman could blow it for her. Georgia starts walking. Maybe Georgia knows this woman. Maybe this is Georgia’s crazy grandmother. Normal people had crazy grandmothers, right? 

“What do you want?” She says once she is safely inside the alley.

“Not much. Just to talk. Won’t you sit down?” 

Natasha- Georgia- oh, she doesn’t know anymore- decides that the table at the back of the alley is not a threat. It is old, the chairs are worn, and a tea set rests on top of the water-warped sun-bleached wood. 

“Would you like your fortune told?” The woman sits and pours two cups of steaming tea. 

“No, thank you.”

“It’s free for anyone with red hair.” 

That isn't right. Georgia’s hair is blonde. But Natasha has red hair. No matter the op, no matter what happened, Natasha always changed it back to a shade of red before returning to the Avengers. 

“Alright.” The quicker this gets done, the quicker she can leave. “What’s my future hold then?”

“Give me your hand.” Natasha reaches out almost involuntarily and the woman takes it gently in her grasp. “You were a spy. A very good one. A very bad one. You killed people. Good people.”

Natasha is flashing back, memories running through her mind, people she had hurt, lives she had ruined. Men, women, children. She had tried to leave it behind, why was it all coming back? She forces the memories down, tries to slow her breathing. 

The woman turns her hand over. “But you were given a chance. A chance to save the world, to redeem yourself. And you took it.” 

Another flashback. New York. The Avengers. Before them. Ops with SHIELD, with Coulson, with Clint, ops where she was sure she was doing good. 

“Are you going to start telling me about my future or just keep telling me what I already know?”

“There is a man,” she says. “A man who changed your entire life.”

 _Clint._ She thinks.

“Yes, that is him. A single moment in time, and everything changed.” The woman looks into her eyes. “What made that moment special?”

Suddenly she flashes back to that dark room, the gun in her hand.

_“I could help you. Just trust me.”_

“I could have killed him.”

“And why didn’t you?”

_“I could help you.”_

“I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you?”

_“Just trust me.”_

“Something in his eyes. He wasn't lying to me. I- I decided to trust him.”

“And what would have happened if you had decided differently?”

_“Trust me.”_

The memory is sharper now, more painful, the wounds she had returning, the hunger, the fatigue, the loneliness.

“You don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this.” The man sets his bow down, puts his hands up. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He looks into her eyes, and it is kind, it is human. “We could help you. SHIELD, I mean.” Natasha’s grip on the gun in her hand tightens but she shifts it slightly to get a better view of his face. “I could help you. Just trust me.” 

The look in his eyes, it has to be a lie. No one can help her. No one will help her. Especially not SHIELD. Not after what she’s done. 

“Please.”

_“Kill him.”_

She returns the gun level with his face, the lie of kindness replaced with a bit of shock that barely registers before she pulls the trigger. 

Outside, the gun away, she catches a woman staring at her. 

“What’s that on your back?”

***

**Hungary, 2005**

It is not far away and not a long time when she is confronted by the man in the suit in a hotel room reserved for Michelle Hibbard. 

“You’re the Widow?” His voice shakes slightly. “You were in Budapest?” 

She considers denying it, but the look in his eyes and the gun in his hand suggest that it doesn’t matter what she says. “Yes.” 

He stands up quickly and smoothly, and she has enough time to reach the drawer near the door- ”Stop.” She freezes, turns, the gun is on her, but it won’t be for long. She plans out her attack, wishing she had more on her, but the knife will have to do. 

“You killed him.” The man almost screams. “You killed him!” The gun in his hand is shaking, and it is not from inexperience, it is emotion, the tears creeping from behind his eyes.

She has killed a lot of people, but she knows who this man is talking about. The archer who tried to help her. Who lied to her. “He tried to kill me.”

“The comms were on. I heard everything. He was trying to help you!”

“He was lying!” 

“No.” The man collects himself, or tries to. He levels the weapon, and it’s now or never.

She rips the knife from her boot and throws it, watching it sink into his neck, a single bullet flying into her shoulder as he falls to the ground. 

_“Coulson. Coulson, report!”_ She hears the faint chatter as she removes whatever she can use from his lifeless body, careful to avoid the pooling blood and keep the ripped piece of his suit pressed against her arm until she has time to stitch it up. 

In the mirror at the end of the hall, she thinks she sees something on her back. 

***

**New York City, New York, 2010.**

The Stark Expo is a disaster. It’s all over the news. Justin Hammer releases new drones led by the Iron Patriot, Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes, who attack everyone in attendance. Papers report that Rhodes is wanted for treason and is now on the FBI’s Top Ten list. 

19 people are dead. 47 will be soon. 294 will never be the same again. Tony Stark is in critical condition, and physicians are unsure if he will survive the night.

Stark’s personal assistant was in on it. She worked for Vanko, who worked for Hammer, who stole the potentially catastrophic new element that Stark had created. 

There is something uncomfortable about the city in this state. The tone of panic in the papers, on television, in the air, all because the invincible Anthony Stark has fallen. 

That’s why Natasha- Katy Sorenson- is here. Sitting at an old wire table in a wire chair outside a small diner that only survives because it has a perfect view of Stark mansion. Above her is a small set of cheap apartments- cheap as far as the city went. She is watching the door, waiting for a resident to arrive, carrying something important. Something the Red Room wants. Katy plans on giving it to them. 

The man with thinning blonde hair is followed by a man in a jacket that is too large who has hair streaked with grey. A moment passes before Katy collects her things and follows them. 

“You’re kidding, right? You couldn’t survive a day without me!” The cry she hears as she nears the door she knows they are behind is a final one, a last grasp. “You’re using my technology, I built those drones, and only I know how to use the element!”

“You underestimate me for the last time.”

Good, Katy thinks. With any luck, they’ll kill each other and she will only have to worry about killing one. 

“Goodbye, Hammer. You’ve been a great-” the sound is lost to gunshots, one, two, three, and Katy runs in with her own gun ready. One, two, and Hammer falls to the ground alongside Vanko. 

Katy removes the element from it’s place in Vanko’s twitching hand, placing it delicately in her purse alongside her gun. 

The brunette on the television rattles a report as Katy steps outside. “Doctors report that Tony Stark will survive, but will be permanently paralyzed from the waist down-” 

“Excuse me, ma’am?” A young woman taps on Katy’s shoulder. Long brown hair. Small. British. Probably harmless. “I think you’ve got something on your back.”

“Simmons, get over here!” A Scottish man waves to the woman. He and a boy who can’t be over 17 are huddled over something on a table. “These readings are off the charts! It’s got to be somewhere close.”

***

**Puente Antiguo, New Mexico, 2011.**

Natasha- no, Liz, she remembers- is headed to a new job at a diner. Small town. It should not be long before she spots her target. Erik Selvig. He knows something. Something dangerous. 

When he finally shows, Liz is pouring coffee for an old woman with a newspaper. A woman is with him, and they both look distressed. The quiet of the near empty diner makes it easy for Liz to hear them. 

“He didn't come back last night.” The woman says, her voice trembling.

“He was crazy, Jane. Thought he was Thor.”

“You believed him yesterday, Erik. What changed?”

“He disappeared. Gods don’t just disappear. Maybe the world isn’t nearly as exciting as I think it is.” There is something else there, a lie he is trying to keep hidden.

“But Agent Sitwell, SHIELD…”

“They were probably just trying to hunt him down. To help him.”

“But all of my research, why would they-”

“Just- forget about it, okay?”

Liz moves over to serve Selvig and Jane. Two coffees. Nothing else. She is making her way back, cups in hand, a slow acting poison filling both just in case, when a scream pierces the slow sounds, followed by a crash and the sound of crumbling concrete. 

“Help!”

Liz is moving quickly, dropping the cups with a crash and running for cover. Through the massive windows she sees it- a giant metal beast with a glowing orange face. Three people in old-fashioned armor are attempting to stop it. 

“We have to help them.”

“Jane, no!” Erik runs after her, the beast shoots a hole clear through the wall of the diner and Liz knows it’s time to leave. 

She attempts to sneak around the edges of the battle, catching a bit of argument between Jane, Erik, and a woman in armor. 

“Please, mortal, where is Thor?”

“Thor’s…” Selvig pauses. “He’s dead.”

“What?”

“I went to rescue him, but it was just his body left, he went to get the hammer and-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you!”

“It’s a bit late for that!” Her screams are raw.

Liz climbs into a car, hoping to get out of the area as quickly as she can. In the mirror she thinks she sees something in the car with her.

***

**Pueblo, Colorado, 2011**

The small motel TV provides background noise as Natasha pieces herself together again. 

“The threat seems to have been contained, but the massive amounts of damage to most of New Mexico will take decades to recover from. Over a million people have been reported dead, and those numbers are only expected to rise.” 

***

**Vancouver, Canada, 2012.**

Amanda Oritz is watching the news while her target sips coffee.

“New York is under attack.” The room falls silent, the group of teenagers in the corner hitting each other's arms to call attention to the screen. “We are on the scene of what appears to be an alien invasion- Is that right, James? An alien invasion? That’s right folks. Aliens. Coming through a hole in the sky. I don’t really believe it either, but here it is. A team of heroes is fighting to stop it, led by what appears to be Captain America.” The woman on screen barely flinches as a building crumbles near her.

“With him are familiar faces from around the world, Spiderman, Captain Marvel, Iron Man, and a new hero I’ve decided to call Falcon. It’s a small team and I don’t know if it will be enoug-” The screen cuts out, the audio dies, and the room gasps.

An image of a sharply dressed man in a studio appears after a second. “Viewers, I apologize, something is wrong with Alice’s equipment.” The tone in his voice means that the problem is not in her equipment. “We will continue to report as this tragedy unfolds-”

The young girl sitting next to Amanda is not staring at the screen but at her. She checks her back, catching the faintest glimpse of something moving. 

***

**Vancouver Airport, the next day**

“There are a lot of people here.”

“Haven’t you heard? Everyone’s leaving. Its time to get out of North America. Hopefully the ocean can slow them down.”

“What about them?”

“Don’t point! They’re refugees. The last few survivors of New York.”

“And the heroes?”

“All died trying to save it.”

Natasha stops listening as she boards the airplane.

“Emily, it’s rude to stare.” Scolds the mother trying to buckle her children into their seats.

“But mommy, there’s a bug on her back!”

***

**London, England, a few weeks later**

“After the fall of New York, the invasion has spread across the east coast. A few groups are attempting to fight back, but to no avail. It would seem that the world is lost to-” Renee Moen shuts off the television. Its been the same news since Vancouver, the world falling to a force no one can stop. Renee hasn’t heard from anyone in that time, save for a message to come meet here. 

She sits for a moment in silence, wondering what that means for her. She tries to ignore the shuffle in the mirror, a slight movement that has grown more and more common. Something on her back.

Three knocks at the door catch her attention. She peers through the peephole at two faces she thinks she recognizes. 

“Renee Moen?” One of them says, and she opens the door.

“Yes.” She takes them in, and it’s the two young people from New York a lifetime ago.

“Come with us.”

They lead her to the basement of the hotel and tell her to stand in the middle of a circular set up she can hardly make out in the dim light. 

“Do you think we should tell her?” The whisper echoes across the room.

“Tell me what?”

“Nothing.” He says, louder.

“Fitz. Don’t lie to her.” The woman steps into her line of sight. “”I’m Jemma Simmons. This is Leo Fitz. You’ve broken reality.”

“I- I what?”

“It wasn't intentional, of course, but something is very wrong here. The barriers between  
dimensions are breaking. All because of that thing on your back.” 

Natasha checks again.

“So you’ve noticed it. Good. That will make this easier.”

“Make what easier?”

“It’s called a ‘time beetle’.” The woman explains. 

Leo interjects. “I made that up.”

“Fitz!”

“We called you here. We’ve sort of been stalking you.” He smiles faintly. 

“Back to the point. The tear in reality is centered around you. You’re the only one who can fix it.”

“Okay.”

“But it will cost you your life.”

“I’m going to die.” It’s not as much of a question as she intends it to be. 

“Not die so much as stop existing altogether. More pleasant I think.” Fitz types something on the tablet in his arm. 

Natasha eyes him suspiciously. “And if I refuse?”

“We all die. Enslaved by an alien race.”

“Or our sun goes out like the other stars.” Leo says deadpan as he types something else.

“The what?”

Jemma ignores her. “You have to go back and stop it.”

“Stop what? How?”

“We…” She glances at Fitz, who shrugs. “Have no clue. But we think it’s centered around the Avengers.”

“The Avengers? Brightly colored spandex? All died in New York?”

“Those ones. But the ones from the universe that should have been.”

“Alright. Let’s say I agree, and I’m not saying I do, let’s say I agree. Then what?”

“We pinpoint whatever moment in time changed to cause this and fix it.”

“How do you know anything happened?”

“We have..” Simmons starts. 

“Contacts!” Fitz said with far too much enthusiasm. 

“Yes, contacts. Very scientific contacts.”

“Super scientific.”

Natasha darts her eyes between them, making it clear she sees through their lies. “What did you do?”

Simmons takes a breath. “Wehearditfromamage.”

“You heard it from-”

“A mage, yes, but we’ve got a lot of evidence to back everything Doctor Strange claimed.” 

“So I’m supposed to trust my life to a magician and you two?”

Simmons sighed and rolled her eyes. “Are you in or are you going to let reality cease to exist?”

“Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice.”

“You could say no, but then you’d blink out with the rest of everything.” 

These people are trusting her. They had been following her, they know what she can do, and they are giving her a choice, and however obvious of a choice it was, it was a choice.

“Alright. What do I have to do?”

“Perfect! Let’s start by figuring out what the event is.”

“Okay, these are the Avengers,” Fitz says, pointing to a picture projected onto the wall. “Tell us if anything seems familiar. Captain America, aka Steve Rogers. Frozen in 1945, though I doubt you were there, thawed in 2012, died in New York.”

Natasha shakes her head. 

“Captain Marvel aka Carol Danvers. Flew with the United States Air Force, had her DNA combined with an alien’s, died in New York.” They look at her expectantly. 

“Nope.”

“Of course you know who Tony Stark is.” 

“But I've never met him.”

“The Falcon, Sam Wilson? Also in the air force?” Her voice sound hopeful.

“No.”

“Peter-” She pauses and takes a breath, “Peter Parker. Spiderman.”

“He was a friend of yours, right? He was with you guys during the Stark Expo in New York?”

“Yes.”

“I saw him. That was it.” 

“Alright. Onto the other ones.”

“The other ones?”

“Strange gave us a list of the Avengers that should have been.”

“Where is Strange?”

The two exchange a glance before Fitz answers. “We don’t know. He just disappeared.”

They pause for a moment. “Anyway,” The word is drawn out as Simmons pulls up another set of pictures. “The other Avengers.”

“Iron Man and Captain America, been over them. You, Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow.”

“I was a hero?”

“Apparently.” Simmons shrugs. 

“Thor, a god from Asgard.”

“He started the mess in New Mexico, right? I was there when it started, but I got out quick.” 

“Okay. Bruce Banner, SHIELD teams actually went to recruit him before New York, but he turned into the Hulk, killed 20 agents, and hasn’t been seen since.” Fitz seems a little too positive about that statement. 

“Never even heard of him.”

“Which leaves Clint Barton-”

The picture on the screen is a face she recognizes, from what seems like a lifetime ago. “I know him.”

“Really? Thank God, that could have gotten messy.” Fitz looks notably relieved. 

“Yeah, he tried to kill me in Budapest.”

“That has to be it. What happened?”

Natasha explains everything, the argument, the lies, even the man in the suit. 

“So you have to go back, and you have to make your past self trust him.”

“How?”

“This.” She holds up a metal glove. “One of Tony Stark’s last inventions. We’re pretty sure it will send you back in time.”

“96% sure.”

“That’s a bit generous. 88%.”

“No, I mean how am I going to convince myself not to kill him?” 

“I don’t know, its you. Figure it out.” Simmons shoves the golve into her hands. “Put this on.”

The glove is cool and fits surprisingly well. 

“One last thing. Don’t be seen by your past self. That could be bad.” The tone in her voice means that by bad she really means catastrophic. 

“Alright. This should be programmed correctly. Travelling in 5.. 4… 3… 2… Now.”

***

**Budapest, Hungary, 2005**

The white flash clears and Natasha finds herself in the middle of a busy street, surprised when no one so much as glances her way. She remembers this place. Her past self is not too far away. She checks the time. 11:46. It won’t be long before she’s facing off with the archer. She might even be now..

Natasha has a half-formulated plan that all hinges on one single fact she doesn’t know that she will find. She scans the rooftops, searching for something. anything. 

Finally she sees it, a flash of light and a person looking a little too comfortable four stories up. It shouldn’t be hard to get up there, right?

Inside she decides she doesn’t have time to wait for the rickety elevator and begins to run up the stairs, finding herself at a locked door at the top. It’s only plywood, and Natasha catches a few seconds of a one sided conversation.

“Jesus, Hawkeye, what the hell are you doing? She’s the Black Widow, she’ll kill you if you don’t kill her first. Are you putting the bow down, seriously? Okay, then, when Coulson decides to take your death out on me-”

Natasha has no time to waste and slams her shoulder into the door, feeling it splinter underneath her as she stumbles onto the brightly lit rooftop. 

The man on the roof wastes no time in pulling out his gun and firing it on her, and she wastes no time in remembering that she is completely unarmed and that the only way to get to him and even have a chance at saving the universe is to move through the hail of bullets toward him. Luckily for her, the agent appears to be new and not a very good shot. 

In an instant she is on him, forcing his wrist to twist back until he drops the gun and sweeping his legs so that his body to falls to the ground. 

She kneels by the machine and puts the headset on, catching the tail end of words she has heard before. _“Just trust me.”_

“Helen’s lemon cake.” She says into the microphone.

 _“What?”_ He responds, confusion having blocked out the need to ignore the comm. 

“Just say it, Helen’s lemon cake.”

_“Who is this?”_

“And take the earpiece out too. Now, before she-”

Three more shots and Natasha is falling backward, unable to stop herself, feeling warm blood spread down her back. She’s never been religious, but she hopes to the God she doesn’t believe in that the archer listens to her.

***

**500 feet away.**

_“Before she-”_ The line goes dead, and Clint knows he’s alone now. 

The Widow is staring at him, now fully aware that an agent had been talking in his ear the whole time (not that he was listening) and he knows he is royally fucked as she stiffens the gun in her grasp.

“Why the hell not.” A groan of a statement escapes his lips as he rips the earpiece from his ear and throws it at the ground. “Helen’s lemon cake.”

She lowers the gun and cocks her head a little to the side. “How did you know that?”

“I-” He answers honestly. “I heard it over the comm. What do you say, give SHIELD a shot?”

***

**New York, 2014**

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nat, Video Game High School is a perfect representation of teenage life.”

Natasha doesn’t remember how she got here. She was in Chicago, working an op, and then-

“Hey, Nat, you okay?”

“Yeah." She remembers. The tower. The movie. "There’s no arguing with you about this is there?”

“Nope, I’m as stubborn as a mountain.”

“Fine, I guess we’ll just have to settle this over-” She steals the controller from him, finding their list of movies to watch and selecting one. “Gay Best Friend?”

“Perfect.”


End file.
